ta erotika
by Emily Moni Luthor
Summary: Lana has a dark secret that could destroy everyone, including Clark...Chapter 8 now up!! Pls r/r. Thx!!
1. inundation

ta erotika  
  
A Smallville Fanfic  
  
by Emily Moni Luthor  
  
ta erotika: [Greek] the proper pursuit of love  
  
CHAPTER 1: INUNDATION  
  
Author's Note: This, being my only Smallville fanfic, occurs directly after Duplicity, so a forewarning: it may contain spoilers if you have not seen the second season. I also feel like I must explain myself. Finally have I surrendered to that great injustice I feel I have done to Smallville by not writing about it; after all, I spent several years with my best friends on our Friends series Queen of Hearts. Seeing as I do not appreciate Friends even half as much as I appreciate Smallville, it seems only right for me to treat Smallville as such I have Friends. That, or maybe I've just been inspired.so please enjoy this dramedy version, and forgive me if it is too soapy. (As well, I have read a total of no Smallville fanfics, so I am truly sorry if ideas within this fic seem reproductions of another; I am completely oblivious to all that is out there. And also, if I happen to make a mistake in regards to the show detail or the setting, please disregard it - it is merely the work of my poor memory. Let's just pretend it is that way in my Smallville.)  
  
  
  
Who: all main characters are important in their own way.  
  
When: directly after Duplicity; assumes that the Spring Formal occurred in June, and now it is September.  
  
  
  
Two penetrating beams of fire shot across the kitchen, hitting their mark on a pan of bacon and eggs. A burst of flame wafted dangerously into the air above the pan, emanating a surprising warmth throughout the room. When the licks of orange finally faded away into simple rings of smoke, Pete moved cautiously toward the stove and peeked into the pan, revealing the sight of charred remains.  
  
"Mm, breakfast flambé," he observed facetiously, returning to his seat at the kitchen table. "My favourite."  
  
"I never claimed to be a good cook." Clark shrugged, grinning at his friend.  
  
At that moment, Martha Kent walked in amidst the wisps of smoke. "Oh!" she coughed, giving Clark a slightly reproachful look, but in a motherly fashion. "What have I told you about playing with fire indoors?"  
  
"Sorry, Mom." Clark and Pete exchanged knowing looks.  
  
As Martha turned her attention to fixing a proper meal, she asked after Pete. "So how are you this morning, Pete?"  
  
"Amazed, as usual," he chuckled. "And amused."  
  
"I'm just glad," offered Jonathan Kent, entering from outside where he had already been hard at work, "that you're over here so much of the time watching Clark instead of out there telling the world about him."  
  
Clark, embarrassed for his friend, quickly shot his father a quieting look.  
  
With a warning tone, Martha matched Clark's feelings. "Jonathan."  
  
Jonathan shrugged, wiping a trace of sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. "Listen, I'm sorry," he said calmly, stuffing the handkerchief into a pocket of his jeans. "I just worry about this. If ever it leaked out, our family would be torn apart."  
  
Pete stood then and faced Clark's father. "Mr. Kent, I understand completely. You can trust me." He turned back to his friend. "Well, I've got to take off. It's a hard life for those of us who have to catch the bus to school."  
  
Clark laughed. "See you in homeroom, Pete."  
  
The Kents said their good-byes to Pete, only to morph rapidly to positive salutations as Lana slid in the door following a few moments after Pete's exit.  
  
"Lana," Clark said quietly, rising. "Hi."  
  
"Hi, Clark." Lana cast him a melancholy glance, then smiled at Martha and Jonathan. "Good morning. Listen Clark, I need to talk to you."  
  
"Uh, sure." Clark's eyes skimmed the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, then he grabbed his backpack from nearby. "Why don't we go outside. Do you have to catch the bus?"  
  
"I'm not going to school," she replied harshly.  
  
Martha and Jonathan, taken aback, exchanged glimpses of concern.  
  
"Ohhh-kay then," Clark went on. "Well, we can still go outside."  
  
He ushered Lana out the door and into the cool autumn air. The leaves were falling randomly, red and gold, from strong oaks on all sides. The scene, with an already risen, yet oddly cold sun, was refreshing, but Clark had little mind to enjoy it. "Lana, what's up?"  
  
"Well, I don't really know where to begin, Clark." Lana walked a little ways from the house, then turned to face Clark. She clapped her hands nervously against her thighs. "I suppose an apology is in order for my behaviour the other day."  
  
"What behaviour is that?" Clark smiled encouragingly. His pure and reverent views of her would never allow him to commit any negative action on her part to memory.  
  
"I mean my outburst in the loft. I never should have been so disrespectful to your needs, especially since you're always so compliant to mine. So before I begin, I want you to know that I'm not telling you this because I expect any kind of explanation in return. I'm telling you this because you're my friend and you'll take care of me."  
  
Clark nodded. "It could never be any other way. And don't worry about what happened - I had completely forgotten."  
  
Lana breathed a sigh of relief. "I felt so awful after I stomped out of there." She quieted, knowing she was only stalling for time. All at once she understood that, whatever it might be that Clark concealed from her, it must be very private, just as what she felt now compelled to reveal. If it was half as awful as this, she could never blame him for keeping it to himself.  
  
And yet if she did so, she would have no one. Right now she needed support in every possible way, and from every available loved-one.  
  
"Lana, what is it?" Clark looked down at her with large, compassionate eyes, attempting to break through the regret he could feel radiating from her.  
  
Breathing in deeply, she began to speak.  
  
  
  
Awaking with a bout of sneezes, Lex shot straight up in bed. Something was not right. Bringing a shaky and clammy hand up to his face, he patted his cheeks, his nose. His eyes opened and closed as normal, his lips were smooth and pursed. Nothing seemed out of order but for an unusually sweaty frame. His chin jutted as usual, but something was wrong. Unlike his lips, his chin was anything but smooth. But why?  
  
Throwing the covers aside, he leaped from his locale of slumber and raced to the nearest mirror. His eyes falling upon this - this abnormality, a scream let loose through the Luthor mansion. -- Hair!  
  
Though invading the skin of his face merely as miniscule pricking leeches, similarly and utterly red tufts of this foreign fur protruded at odd angles from his previously shiny head. In horror, Lex fed a strand of curls through his thumb and index finger. Never had he seen such a hideous site since.a lack of oxygen piercing hungered arteries, a chief fear of the air: attraction to the ground green below.again, he screamed.  
  
"Lex."  
  
No, his father could not see him this way! Was he so vulnerable and naïve, such a tenderfoot once more, wreathed with this crown of curls? A moment of panic overtook him, before he remembered. We both would have been wrong. He breathed a sigh of relief. So that error on his part was worth something. Though - for Heaven's sake - had it ever made Lionel delusional. A spaceship: sure. The man was crazy. Next he'd be hearing little green men in his bedroom at night.  
  
Lionel made a grand entrance into the room, trailing his cane.  
  
"You screamed, Lex."  
  
"I had a nightmare."  
  
"I've always said, lay off those anchovies before bedtime, Lex. I know you find them tasty, but they do strange things to the intellect."  
  
"Of course, you're right." Lex rolled his eyes. He had only eaten a few. Besides, the nightmare was just a cover story. He feared the symbolic causal factors of this strange return to the past; it had made him weak as a child. Might it not do the same to him now?  
  
"See now, isn't this progress? Now that you're listening to your daddy, maybe we're on the road to better relations."  
  
"I'm sure we are." This conversation was trying Lex's patience. He had more pressing things to think about, such as where had it come from and why and oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, how to rid himself of the repulsive raider?  
  
"Well now that I'm here, I have a surprise for you, Lex." Lionel raised his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply.  
  
"Now you're whistling for your borgs? I really don't think they'll respond -"  
  
He trailed off as a large German shepherd trotted into the room and sat obediently at Lionel's feet. Lionel reached out and stroked the dog's head.  
  
"What is that mangy thing doing in my bedroom?" Lex demanded.  
  
Ignoring Lex's outburst, Lionel spoke calmly. "Missy, I'd like you to meet Lex.my, er, son. Lex: this is Missy, my seeing-eye dog."  
  
"I thought those things were usually Labradors." Lex stepped back, leaning against the bureau, repulsed by the animal as she sniffed at him. He sneezed.  
  
"Not Missy," Lionel explained proudly. "Her previous owner was a friend of mine on the Metropolis police force. I convinced him to sell her to me. She was a drug-sniffer in her younger days, but they retired her because she demanded too much attention, and didn't want to work." He stroked at her ears lovingly. "My friend took in Missy, and had her trained as a seeing-eye dog, as his wife was blind. Most unfortunately, she passed away just a few weeks ago. Ralph was happy enough to have Missy working again, as she was quite depressed at Raquel's death."  
  
"I see," Lex said in disgust. "I imagine you'll be returning to the city soon then."  
  
"Oh, quite the opposite, Lex. The estate is the perfect place for her to roam as she pleases. We'll be staying here for quite awhile, I believe."  
  
Lex bit his lip, but quickly abandoned that action when his frontal teeth closed on a multitude of scratchy hairs. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. If you'll recall, mother's little terrier, Lucy, we were forced to bequeath upon our neighbours in Metropolis after we learned I was allergic. That thing certainly cannot stay here."  
  
Ignorant of Lex's point, Lionel struck up an argument. "You speak fondly of Lucy, and yet spurn Missy? I have never known you to be so cold, Lex."  
  
"Oh forget it!" Lex cried, throwing his arms up in abandonment. "What a ridiculous conversation: I can't believe we're discussing animals like this. Do what you like with your dog, but keep her out of here!"  
  
Missy sauntered over to her master's son and licked his hand tenderly; Lex let out a yelp of disgust, and stomped into the bathroom, leaving a self-satisfied Lionel behind.  
  
  
  
"I just don't believe it. You.you're Lana," Chloe breathed. "This is just unheard of."  
  
"Now don't go publishing this in the paper," Clark warned her, wrapping a protective arm around Lana's shoulders. "She's upset enough. It was all I could do to get her to come to school this morning."  
  
At that, Chloe's mouth dropped open. The reaction she had raised from Clark shocked her more than the news about Lana. Partly insulted, partly injured, she rebuffed. "I'm a reporter, Clark Kent, not a gossip- columnist. And I would never spread harmful news about my friends."  
  
"I know you wouldn't, Chloe." Lana smiled sadly. "You're a good friend."  
  
"Thank you." Chloe shot Clark a triumphant glance, but he was too involved in examining Lana's anguish-etched face to notice. She quickly changed the subject. "So, uh, how did Nell take the news?" Immediately following the release of the words, Chloe felt horrid for digging deeper into Lana's personal life, and only to alter the conversation from a path related to her. Maybe Clark had been right to question her motive, for she was truly a reporter at heart. But wasn't she first a friend?  
  
"Well she wasn't at all surprised," Lana explained, her voice soft. Discussing the matter was certainly not on her list of favourite things to do. It was painful, showering her with regrets and sorrows abound.and with questions: what to do now?  
  
"You see," she continued, "Nell is the one who insisted I see a doctor. She was worried my symptoms might have something to do with the trauma of the storm last spring," -she shot Clark a meaningful look, which he innocently ignored- "or so she said. Of course, she suspected otherwise. But when we found out for certain last night, she just broke down into this utter silence." Lana's eyes brimmed with both tears and uncontrollable rage. She began to expound in a much louder and expressive voice, which wavered every few words. "Last night I didn't sleep; I could only think about how I've let down Nell - and just when she was getting to be so happy with Dean - and of course how I've let down myself! The only rational decision I can force myself to come to at this point is that I can't go home tonight."  
  
"Lana's going to be staying at my place for awhile," Clark explained to Chloe. "At least until she comes to -"  
  
At once, Chloe tuned out, absorbed in her own thoughts. Lana would be staying with the Kents? With Clark? What did it mean? Was Clark.?  
  
A terrible bell rang clearly, interrupting the ghastly thought. Chloe jerked herself from her questioning mind.  
  
"Well, I'm off to gym. Lana, I'll meet you at my locker after school, all right?" Clark smiled at her as he backed slowly away from his friends.  
  
Lana nodded, then she and Chloe turned toward their next class.  
  
As they walked in uncomfortable silence, Chloe debated with herself. She just had to know.but had she the gall to ask such a question of such a good friend?.  
  
In rapid decision, she drew in a quick breath. "Does the father know?"  
  
Lana stopped abruptly, and looked at Chloe, sickeningly surprised at Chloe's blatant ability, particularly since it was exposed so soon after she had defended Chloe's character. "Yes, he does." Without another word, she hastened away.  
  
Chloe just looked after her in disbelief and incredible dismay. So it was true. 


	2. speculation

CHAPTER 2: SPECULATION  
  
"What is that noise, Lex?"  
  
Lex ground his teeth together in annoyance. It seemed to be his father's hobby to pester him, and when he was in the bathroom, no less. He didn't answer, but backed away in desperation from the door when the dog's nose nudged it open and entered, (a sneeze complementing Lex's backward movement,) followed by her master. This time a harness was attached to Missy, and was followed by Lionel, who had forsaken his cane.  
  
"Lex, I thought I heard an electric razor."  
  
"Really," Lex replied sarcastically. "And I heard Santa's reindeer on the roof last night, but when I went to investigate, I found nothing."  
  
Taking him literally, Lionel shook his head. "It's the anchovies."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"The sound was coming from in here. Are you shaving?" A lop-sided grin was painted on Lionel's face.  
  
Lex examined his once-more bald head and smooth face, and breathed a sigh. "What have I to shave?"  
  
Absorbed in his own reflection, he neglected to notice the nosy Missy sniffing the floor, which was carpeted with a thin layer of red. She grasped a fragment of such in her jaw and fed it into her master's out- stretched hand. Lionel played it through his fingers and knew immediately the contents of his palm.  
  
"Have you been using Rogaine?"  
  
"No, Dad, Just-for-Men Gel." Lex rolled his eyes, but quickly realizing the seriousness of the situation, winced.  
  
"This is hair. And you're alone in here. What else could you have been doing?"  
  
Lionel removed his glasses and appeared to peer out at his son. Overtaken by the eerie nature of this action, Lex surrendered. He would simply be unable to allow himself to become a naïve player in this game as he had in his younger years.  
  
"All right," he confessed. "This morning I woke up with hair. I've never been more frightened in my life." Cringing, he watched his father carefully.  
  
After a moment of silence, Lionel burst into a fit of chuckles. "Oh, good one, Lex. See, and now we have father-son jokes. I believe our relationship is coming along quite well."  
  
"What 'joke'?" Lex demanded. "I was speaking the truth."  
  
"I'm sure you were, Lex. All right, Missy, let's go."  
  
"Wait, where are you going?"  
  
Lionel turned back toward Lex. "We're going to look for our spaceship."  
  
"There is no spaceship!" Lex declared stubbornly. "Can't you get that through your skull? Or is it too numb with formality? And I do have hair."  
  
"All right, Lex, you keep your hair and I'll keep my spaceship. Is that a fair deal?" Lionel chortled to himself as he followed Missy from the room.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey Chloe, what are you up to?" Pete loped into The Torch office non- chalantly, and sidled up next to her desk.  
  
Without even an upward glance, Chloe continued to tap away furiously at the keyboard. She spoke but a few words. "Throwing myself into my work. Getting my mind off of things."  
  
"Now there's nothing so special about you throwing yourself into your work, Chloe, but what's to get your mind off of?"  
  
Chloe paused and swung her eyes towards Pete without moving her head. "Did you not hear the vicious rumours about Lana that have been circulating around school all day?"  
  
Pete cringed. "Yeah, poor girl. It's just so unlike Lana Lang to be in a state of.of pregnancy!"  
  
"I love how you put it so delicately, Pete," Chloe replied, typing once more.  
  
"But what does that have to do with you? You're not pregnant, too, are you?" Feigning concern, Pete grabbed Chloe's shoulders and shook her mockingly. "Didn't your father ever teach you that abstinence is the best policy?!"  
  
"'Abstinence is the Best Policy and Experience is the Best Teacher'," Chloe quoted, pausing once more. "No, it doesn't have anything to do with me. It has to do with Clark."  
  
"Well what's the problem? Do you honestly think Clark is going to be attracted to a pregnant girl? He has enough worries without a little baby on his hands."  
  
Chloe sighed. "Are you dense? He's going to have to take responsibility for his consequential actions, Pete."  
  
Staring in disbelief, Pete shook his head. "Clark? You've really lost it this time, Chloe. If Clark were the father, I would grant you the right to stick the story up on your Wall of Weird. That's crazy."  
  
"Who else would it be, Pete? Especially since Whitney left, Lana has spent more time with Clark than with anyone."  
  
"No, I won't believe it," Pete insisted. "Clark is so.perfect, Chloe." Slightly bitter, he furrowed his brow and muttered something to himself. Then he continued. "Clark can control himself, Chloe. If he couldn't, he'd be locked up in some federal hospital undergoing all sorts of phenomenal tests." He trailed off. He knew his ramblings would make no sense to Chloe, so his speech was safe from questioning.  
  
"You're quite the humorist today," Chloe observed in annoyance, turning back to her work.  
  
She was not to be focused for long, however, as a self-invitational knock at the door revealed none other than Lex Luthor.  
  
"Hi Chloe, hello Pete," he greeted them slightly; he seemed quite preoccupied.  
  
Chloe rose. "Mr. Luthor. What brings you to our humble abode?"  
  
Displeased at the entrance of his family's sworn enemy, Pete rolled his eyes and turned away. He noticed, with annoyance, that Lex received quite a friendlier welcome than he had upon his arrival.  
  
"Well, I came to see you, Chloe. I've heard so much about your investigative abilities from Clark, that it seems to me you are the person to come to in the time of mystery."  
  
"I'm on the case." Chloe grinned for the first time all day.  
  
"Great. And by the way, as I've told you before, the name's 'Lex'." Lex inhaled deeply and glanced around the room conspicuously. As he began his explanation, he dropped his voice considerably. "It's quite embarrassing, actually. You see, this morning I woke up with hair."  
  
From his place by Chloe's desk, Pete burst into laughter. Simultaneously, each of Chloe and Lex shot him a withering glance. "What?" he protested. "It just sounds funny!"  
  
"Go on. This sounds Wall of Weird-worthy considering you haven't had hair for - what - twelve years or so?"  
  
"That sounds about right," Lex agreed. "There isn't much more to tell. I felt it, I saw it, and I screamed."  
  
At this, Pete laughed louder, clutching at his abdomen. "Oh, that is fun-nee." Calming slightly, he directed a question at Lex. "So where is this phantom hair? I don't see anything."  
  
"I shaved it off," Lex explained. As if divulging a great and terrible secret, he spoke ominously. "Hair doesn't become me."  
  
Chloe glared at Pete from across the room. "Please ignore Chuckles the Clown here, er, Lex. Are you sure you look so bad with hair? Maybe its regrowth is just a miracle in the making, and you should be pleased."  
  
"Oh, no. You'd feel the same way if you had intense red follicles breeding thick curls. He," Lex said, nodding toward the laugh-sick Pete, "may be Chuckles the Clown, but with my hair I look like Bobo the Clown. It's not much better. Chloe, hair makes me feel vulnerable, especially toward my father. I simply do not want it, and if it comes back, I need a way to be able to get rid of it."  
  
"Well, I'll see what I can do for you. This is quite the puzzle," Chloe observed. She was satisfied at this; having a project would certainly help her remove undesired thoughts from her dwelling mind.  
  
As Lex turned to go with a suave bestowment of thanks, Chloe spoke after him. "By the way, how is your father doing, Lex?"  
  
"Oh, he's doing quite nicely," Lex answered distantly, suddenly returned to the awful memories of his erring. "He has gotten himself a seeing-eye dog, much to my disgust. On top of the difficulties I have with that man, I now I have a dog to deal with. I've always thought perhaps I am somewhat allergic to my father, but I'm physically allergic to dogs."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Chloe called, as she and Pete bade their farewells to Lex. As the door swung shut behind him, she turned to her friend. "Now isn't that strange."  
  
Pete laughed once more. "Sure is," he concurred heartily. "And to think most men worry about waking up one day with no hair at all." 


	3. revelation

CHAPTER 3: REVELATION  
  
His face still burned pale with horror, disbelief.  
  
His ears still glowed red with regret, embarrassment.  
  
His body still shook uncontrollably with ardour. Even now he could feel the thrill and amazement of his love.  
  
It flowed through his veins from hesitant fingertips and a hungry mouth to a hammering heart teasing itself with possibilities. Lana's body stretched before him, a ghost of desire. Fear. It rattled through his mind without surety. For if ever he was to hurt her, his angel, he would drop to his knees in supplicaiton, praying for her release from pain and preying on his own terrible ego. But when he caressed her, she did not give to the possibility of pain, he found. Instead she opened willingly at his tender touch and fed herself to him, as if a gentle parent spooning thick warm applesauce into aninfant's toothless and eager jaw.  
  
Pleasure. Warmth. Fear - it always came back to that, an empty emotion brimming with unsaid "what-ifs" and murmured "I'm sorrys."  
  
And now satisfaction - momentarily, at least; it alternated with the same old frets and regrets which he had attempted to conceal within ever since he had violated his virtue and her virginity. Now, he could be a champion, a lover - a father! - but at what price? Not only did he now face a tardy expulsion of the truth and the disappointment in his mother's eyes, but he faced a contradictory realization: he had hurt his angel after all. Clark sighed inwardly, his eyes shut tightly to close out the light, to close out the dark, both of which enveloped him here in his familiar bedroom. A teardrop of worry escaped. He did not drop to his knees in supplication.  
  
  
  
The silence in the air produced a light film so apparent that an otherwise soft ringing in Clark's right ear sang out with incredibly volume. Distantly, he felt the drums of hearing might at any moment burst with containment.  
  
He stared at them, then glanced away, trying to block out the hurt they reflected back upon him in their own pain. If only they would say something! Even a blatant, outright disownment would be better than this torturous pause. He wished for their disapproval, their disappointment, their disrespect. Anything. Anything but that look - which he had rightfully expected - in his mother's full dark eyes.  
  
After what seemed to be another lifetime of impatient waiting for a response of any kind, Clark listened with relief to his father's gruff, compassionate words. "You made a wrong choice, Clark."  
  
As if that was his cue to speak, to defend, Clark jumped back in. "I know, Dad, I know, I -"  
  
In a louder voice, his father drowned him out. "That's over and done with. Now the important thing is that you make the right decisions from here on in. You talk to Lana; find out where she stands. Then it's up to the two of you to figure out where this is going to lead you. Once that's done, I suggest you actively throw yourself into your studies and chores so that we don't find ourselves with more than one little rugrat on our hands. I want you to keep busy, and while Lana is staying here, I don't want you near her unless we're around."  
  
Clark regarded his father with remorse, blurring the image with asking wetness. His calming relief had dissipated suddenly along with any hope he had of goodness out of this whole disaster. Didn't his parents trust him at all? He had owned up to his mistake, and stood willing to take full responsibility for it. Besides, he thought defiantly, say he was to marry Lana, would then he still not be allowed alone with her? Marriage - Clark shivered at the thought, half in pleasure, half in terror. Who knew solidifying everything he had ever dared to form into a mirage within the ebbs of his imagination would be the cause of such difficulties?  
  
His father having quitted the room in disgust, frustration, excitement?, - Clark knew not what - Clark's mother leaned forward and wrapped her arms lovingly around him. "We love you, Clark," she whispered. "And we'll be here for you." 


	4. tribulation

CHAPTER 4: TRIBULATION  
  
His parents were there for him. Or so they claimed. On the other hand, he wasn't sure his other friends would be so understanding. He recalled Pete's absolute and bitter disappointment at learning of Clark's abilities. Not having made his friend privy to his actions of that one so full, so empty night, he feared the reaction he would receive upon the expulsion of the news.  
  
Chloe was another he dreaded telling. Having acted so cool to her this morning had not been meant to hurt her in any way, and yet it had. When she found out the truth.she would most certainly be heart-broken. For both he and Lana were of her closest friends, and her knowledge of this would make her feel removed from the group.  
  
In fact, he would not be surprised if this completely isolated them from both Chloe and Pete.  
  
Clark allowed his gaze to drift back to his mother, who had an absolutely dreamy look painted on her rosy face. "Mom," he said loudly, intending to snap her out of whatever entrancing reverie had its hold upon her. It seemed unfair that she would be able to have happy thoughts when all Clark's mind could wander to were painful memories of his past decisions and mixed emotions of his future dilemmas.  
  
"Hmm?" Martha shook her head to clear her mind, then smiled fully at Clark. "Well, I should get back to work. We're not going to let this disrupt our lives, Clark. There's no need for it. Things will be fine.great, in fact: perfect."  
  
Clark just stared after her in confusion as his mother stood up from the kitchen table and wandered out the side door, presumably to return to her chores. Remotely, an air of guilt overcame him, and he wondered if not he too should do the same thing. After all, soon enough he would be too busy with a mewing creature the size of his palm. Oh, but what if he were to be bigger? Suddenly Clark realized that his own powers might be hereditary.  
  
That said, his thoughts ran rampant. Perhaps it is time Lana knows the truth - after all, she had a right to know if she was to become part of the family - Chloe.she'll be the only one left out - You know, Lana really had a right to know after they shared that night together: was that why she wanted to know? Because she knows me physically now? - What will Lex procure as a baby gift? - a wedding gift? - Perhaps a car; he likes to give those away - A baby - a baby - what's a baby? - That's why Mom was so happy.  
  
Not once did it occur to him to realize that maybe what he wanted was not what Lana wanted.  
  
  
  
Sighing heavily, Pete shut the door to the Torch office quietly behind him. When Chloe was faced with a new and healthily mysterious challenge, she was completely traversed to another time and place; Pete was not a part of that. He had decided to leave her to her triumphant project and niggling worries about a certain someone, and distance himself from the world, consumed by his own demons.  
  
Chloe's presumption about Clark, he found, was totally erroneous! The virtuous Clark knocking up the impenetrable Lana Lang? Clark hadn't even gotten close enough to her to kiss her cheek let alone permit his feelings to run rampantly in the physical form.  
  
Virtuous. As much as Pete realized that his feelings on the matter made him even less virtuous himself, he couldn't help but resent Clark's perfection. The fire he witnessed as spewing from Clark's very eyes that morning was an testament to that perfection. It was symbolic, in a way. Warm, protective, bright, and alarming - that was Clark Kent, all right. And heroic. A true hero. Not the classic tragic hero Pete learned about in English class, for Clark was no Oedipus or Macbeth. No, Clark was the type of hero that everyone could revere, in their own way, and the most impressive part was that no one knew enough about him in order to pay that reverence. He kept it that way, purposely. An anonymous angel who descended from heaven to grace the earth, but who maintained his invisible wings stay wrapped tightly around his princely physique, Clark was simply incredible.  
  
And so he wished for incredible things to surround him. Incredible things like great parents who cared ever-so much about him that never would they dream of exploiting or exposing his powers, but quite the opposite, keep him hidden and protected. For Pete could see that Martha and Jonathan Kent were intelligent enough to know that, while Clark could protect others, he could never protect himself without their loving help. And he wished for incredible things like the gorgeous Lana Lang, a raven-haired beauty with an ever-increasingly warm heart and enviable determination. And maybe Chloe was right to assume that Clark, in all his perfection, had attained that wish.  
  
Not once did it occur to him to realize that, Clark having surrounded himself with incredible things, he had chosen Pete as a friend.  
  
  
  
The next morning, Martha and Jonathan decided it would be a good idea to phone Nell to let her know Lana was all right. "Nell? It's Martha Kent." Martha drummed her fingers nervously on the counter, then, annoyed at her own impatience, shoved them in her jeans pocket. "Listen, I just wanted to let you know that Lana is at our place; she says she wants to stay here for a few days while she - they - get things figured out." She paused, listening attentively to Nell's reply. "Okay. And don't you worry about a thing, we're all in this together.Well, it's no problem. Of course we want to hel -" She furrowed her brow in beffudlement as Nell spoke, then pursed her lips. Very slowly, they opened to a little rounded "o" which conveyed her absolute shock. "Oh, I see. I didn't realize he would come, though I suppose it only makes sense. All right, Nell. Well I'll pass that message along to Lana, if she doesn't find out from someone else first. And I'll let her know you're very worried. All right. Say hi to Dean for me. Okay. Thanks, Nell. Bye."  
  
Martha hung up the phone and took a few tentative steps towards her husband. Jonathan, not missing a beat, didn't even look up from his morning paper and coffee as he replied jokingly. "Of course he came, Martha. You know as well as I do how the whole thing works."  
  
"Very funny," Martha said. "But that's not what I meant."  
  
Her somber voice made Jonathan realize something was wrong. He looked up with an expression of concern. That's when he saw the uncontrollable tears streaming down his wife's face. He stood and drew her into a protective embrace. "What is it?" he asked urgently. 


	5. persuasion

CHAPTER 5: PERSUASION  
  
  
  
Not since Chloe had been eight years old had she skipped school, and even then she had only done so by working her dear daddy's feelings with a lamp-heated mercury thermometer and a pale face. He had put a stop to that after the time she had tried to get away with the chicken-pox by dabbing her face and hands with red paint splotches. At the memory, she smiled fondly, but quickly returned to her focus, which was to avoid Lana and Clark, as she was still convinced of Clark's fatherhood. And the only way for her to do that was to skip school.  
  
So here she was, standing before Lex's mansion, feeling more than a little out of place with her floopy clothing and camera. Now that she was upon the doorstep, she really did not know what to do; should she ring the bell, knock, or simply try the door? So many choices.so little time. Or so it would be, if she needed to get to Algebra by 10:30, but she didn't. So she had much time to make a decision. But she hated waiting.  
  
The door was open, so Chloe stepped inside and shut it behind her. The house was so empty that it painted a picture of must and dust simply because it felt unlived in. Chloe had been in here before, more than a few times, so without another thought, she headed for Lex's study, where she expected to find him.  
  
Instead, Chloe found a handsome German shepherd dog to be the only occupant of the room, sniffing randomly at the furniture, with a seeming particular interest in the pool table.  
  
"Hey, girl." Chloe coaxed the animal toward her. The dog trotted towards the visitor and circled her curiously. Chloe smiled, watching her quietly.  
  
"I see you've met Missy," came Lex's voice, disapprovingly, as he entered the study.  
  
"Too bad you're allergic," she replied, giving Missy a friendly scratch behind the ears. "She's a great dog."  
  
Lex snorted. "I suppose that's a matter of opinion." He made a great show of avoiding the creature as he walked toward his desk and took a seat there. "Maybe you can keep her pre-occupied while you're here so she doesn't bug me. She seems to have taken to me." He regarded Missy with disgust as she abandoned Chloe and scampered after her master's son, only ending her journey with a beseeching paw and nose muzzled into his lap. Lex sneezed, three times over.  
  
Chloe laughed. "I see what you mean."  
  
"So do you have any news on my.problem?" Lex asked, changing the subject as he flung Missy from him. Hurt by his spurning of her, she fell to the floor and covered her eyes with her forepaws.  
  
"I'm afraid not," Chloe answered, taking in Lex's face of disappointment. "It really is a mystery. But I wanted to suggest something to you; that you return to the place it all happened. You see, my guess right now is that the whole thing is psychological; perhaps it was all such a shock to you that your mind responded by taking away the natural process of hair growth and channeling it toward something else - blocking the event out of your mind, for example. I thought that by going there you might make an eye-opening realization or something of the sort, or maybe your mind will even remember its blockage of that and take away your hair again."  
  
"It sounds fairly credible," Lex said thoughtfully, playing with the idea. Then again, it was a bit far-fetched. But, then, wasn't nearly everything in Smallville a living, breathing phenomenon, including his friend Clark Kent. "I may just do that." With the thought of Clark, Lex couldn't resist mentioning him. "How are things with Clark going?"  
  
At the question, Chloe maintained face, but bit her tongue momentarily to prevent tears from falling. "You can only guess," she said angrily, "if you've heard about Lana."  
  
Lex nodded curtly, indicating that he knew all about that. Old news, in fact. He kept on top of such things. Then he replied impatiently. "Clark is not the father of Lana's baby, Chloe."  
  
"How do you know?" Chloe cried in desperation, no longer able to contain her true emotions. "Pete said the same thing, but how do you know? And don't just say you 'know' Clark, because who actually knows him? He's the most secretive guy I know!" Sensing her outburst, the dog rolled and listened attentively.  
  
"Is that why you like him? Mystery?"  
  
"Well that was a change of subject!" She drew back, annoyed.  
  
"It wasn't a change of subject at all," Lex disagreed contrarily. "We were talking about Clark."  
  
Chloe, growing frustrated, threw up her arms. "You're right, we were. But why? I certainly don't want to talk about him."  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Lex grinned at her. "I just wanted to point out to you that if it's mystery you're after, there are plenty of other guys out there for you to pursue." He glared down at Missy. "And that goes for you too, you mangy mutt. If you're after a guy who grows hair, then there are other fish in that sea! And I can't wait to be bald again!"  
  
  
  
"I want to marry you."  
  
This profession, immediately following a heart-encrusted embrace.  
  
Lana stood perfectly still, barely able to breathe. But he could feel her breathing, there in his arms, her chest moving slightly against his with each intake of air, and a warm puff of it expelling on to his neck with each exhalation. How long it had been, since that night, and now he held her; it all seemed right.  
  
"We'll have a family. I'll take care of you, and of the baby. You'll see. I want to marry you."  
  
She did not want to marry him. She did not want to marry anyone, for that matter. (What, was she to have a double-wedding with Nell and Dean? - oh how quaint that would be.) And neither did she want this stupid child, the cause of all her dilemma.  
  
"I want to marry you," he repeated. He was so overjoyed.  
  
She cried into him.  
  
  
  
It was too much of a shock. It felt as if in one quiet day they had both given birth to and witnessed the death of a child. An black emptiness consumed them as it once had in the days before Clark, their baby.  
  
"I just don't understand." Martha spoke quietly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, when really there was no barrier to control the flood of wetness. "How could Clark possibly make that mistake?"  
  
It was a different mistake she spoke of this time; not the mistake he had made with Lana, but the mistake he had made in presuming that previous mistake had been the cause of something greater.  
  
"I don't know," Jonathan replied, knitting his eyebrows in irate concentration. "But that Lana Lang sure gets around the block. Besides he and Clark, I wonder who else she hit? In fact, how can she even be sure that it isn't Clark's, since she's so obviously treating her body no better than a wench would."  
  
"Oh, Jonathan, don't speak like that. She's just a child." "Exactly my point. I'm unimpressed. And Clark is just a child too; he's our child. And he's going to be heartbroken, you know. All we feel and more is going to hit him tenfold when he finds out he was wrong."  
  
"But we mustn't judge." Martha's voice trailed off. She knew trying to convince her husband, and even herself, about Lana's innocence, was a lost cause. She wondered if Clark, as never had he been in doubt of her purity before, would feel the same way. 


	6. realization

CHAPTER 6: REALIZATION  
  
Heavy-hearted, Chloe dragged her feet down main street Smallville, purposely glancing away from the Talon as she approached it, knowing it was adorned with multiple "Sorry, We're Closed" signs. Oh how she would treasure it so if Lana's condition allowed for it to be open once more.  
  
Her whole day of skipped classes had been filled with dilemmic thoughts of both remorse and self-pity, as well as skimming chills running down her spine at Lex's words: "There are plenty of other guys out there for you to pursue." But she could not avoid her pursuit of Clark . . . she tried not to think of that, but . . .  
  
Not only was she now disappointed that never again would she fare a chance with her distantly beloved Clark, but she even felt a little bad at her own reaction. She had acted ignorantly and malignantly towards Lana, and mindfully so towards Clark.  
  
"Chloe?! Is that you?!"  
  
Chloe spun around at the sound of her name from a voice she had not heard for months.  
  
Whitney grabbed her by the shoulders and embraced her generously. When he pulled away, shrugging, Chloe saw that he was grinning as if a massive slice of watermelon had been stuffed in his mouth rind side down.  
  
It took the shock a few moments to hit her, but once she felt it, she nearly fell backwards at the aggressive hands of the impact. Whitney was back in Smallville. Back from . . . ? His prior location was unimportant at this point. The fact that he was back, back here, was the important thing. And the motive for his return? - for his joy? There was only one possible reason . . .  
  
"Wow, Chloe, you look great." Inspecting her critically but affectionately, Whitney stepped closer to her and looked down at her face. "Did you get your hair cut?"  
  
Whitney did not seem at all interested in her hair. His eyes were brimming with thrill, which seemed excitingly out of character. She knew because she looked straight into them. For a moment, Chloe could not tear her eyes away from his, which distractedly opposed her focus. Too shocked and suddenly drawn, she could not force herself to look earthward. "Like three months ago." she mumbled quietly. "I need to get it done again."  
  
"Well it looks fantastic," Whitney cajoled her. "So what have you been up to lately?"  
  
She stared at him for a moment before replying. The occurrence of a normal conversation with Whitney Fordman was just an eccentric idea, especially now that he was never around. Until now . . . "Working on the Torch, you know, the usual. Listen, Whitney, I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?"  
  
Furrowing his brow, Whitney clucked his tongue. "Oh, you didn't hear? I assumed that you would know since you and Lana have been closer lately. She's -"  
  
"- pregnant," Chloe finished. "I know. But I thought . . . "  
  
"It's so wonderful to be back," Whitney gushed. "I'll never have to leave again. I asked her to marry me, you know."  
  
But how could this be? This meant . . .  
  
Chloe smiled at Whitney nervously, careless of Lana's reply to Whitney's proposal. "Well, it's great talking to you, but I have to go. I hope I'll see you again soon." She spun around and raced for the Kent farm. She owed Clark a big apology for ever thinking he could do something so hideous.  
  
"You too . . . " Whitney called after her.  
  
  
  
  
  
"What are you doing up here, Lana?" Clark mounted the final stairs leading up to his loft and moved across the room toward where Lana was positioned, gazing out into the dim afternoon skies. He could hardly bring himself to look at her. At least, he thought, she knew nothing of his erroneous presumption.  
  
Lana turned and focused her eyes on Clark. "Thinking," she replied softly. "Thinking and breathing, living and dying."  
  
Drawn by her silent depression, Clark seated himself beside her and took her hand in his, careful to avoid her eyes. "Anything you want to expand on?"  
  
After a meaningful glance from her hand to Clark's face, Lana's eyes fell. "I'm thinking of aborting the baby," she blurted, complementary tears splattering the thin lining of dust on the floor.  
  
"Oh, Lana." Clark gathered her up on his arms and held her close to him. He could say nothing else. How could he possibly heal the eternal wound on her heart, how could he kill the demons which perpetually tugged at it? Lana had come to him for help, but against the mortal intentions spilling forth from her lips, he felt powerless to care for her as she needed him to. Especially when he himself was in such a fragile state at learning of the truth.  
  
"I don't want my life to change, Clark. But Whitney . . . " She laughed bitterly. "He wants to get married. Married? I'm so young, at mind and at heart. I don't love him. I just broke up with him, for crying out loud! I know doing it would hurt Whitney, but I can't help but feel that he hurt me first."  
  
"Are you sure that an abortion wouldn't hurt you, too?" He winced. It was in Clark's nature to attempt to save a human life, but he bit his tongue as soon as he had said it. It certainly was not his place to interrupt Lana's business, but not only could he not bear for his love to be in pain, but he could not bear for a precious life to be terminated. Particularly when this child was going to be partly his . . . when he claimed Lana for his own. He narrowed his eyes in determination.  
  
Lana broke away from him. "I didn't tell you my thoughts so you would stop me from thinking them," she told him angrily. Then, sarcastically, she went on. "I'm impressed, though, that you and Whitney agree on something. Maybe you'll be the best man at our wedding."  
  
"I had enough of that at Lex's wedding," Clark joked feebly, trying to capture her eye once more. But Lana had turned her attention back to the parting wisps of cloud subtracted momentarily by sunlight. Wedding? Where had this phantom wedding come from? But of course, it made sense. A proposal of marriage had been what Clark himself had planned when he had been under the impression that the baby was his. Matrimony could be a good man's only sensible reaction to learning of such a thing.  
  
"Why do I feel like no one cares about me?" Lana asked wearily, with good reason, though she knew not that Clark had been worried more about winning her from Whitney than he had been about her dire dilemma. "I can't face Nell; she seems to spurn me. You were so right about Chloe; all she wanted was information. I suspect she thinks that you're the father of my baby."  
  
Clark recoiled at the theory of Chloe, but momentarily glowed at the prospect of finally getting what he wanted when she mentioned what had also been his own impression: if only he had been the father.  
  
She continued. "Whitney, well he doesn't care what I think. He thinks the baby is just as well his, and yet he is not the one faced with this terrible dilemma. And you, Clark . . . " Lana trailed off.  
  
"Me, Clark," he urged her, wrapping his arm around her tired shoulders. This could be his big chance. When Lana didn't reply, he inserted his own explanation, caressing the back of her neck gently. "I care about you Lana, and I'll support any decision you make as pertains to something as entrepreneurial as your business at the Talon, or something as physical as your own body. I'll always be here; after all, did you not come to me because you wanted someone to take care of you?"  
  
In a slow-moted swoop, Clark moved in closer to Lana's lips, and initiated a kiss, intending to physically prove his ability to care for her. In the attainment of a goal he had aimed at for so many months, his heart fluttered, then triumphed, then tore.  
  
Lana leaped up, glaring at Clark in utter repulsion. "How could you take advantage of me in such a vulnerable state?" she cried in horror. "Don't try to deny it, Clark, you know that's what you were doing. You've wanted to do that every since . . . " She clamped her eyes shut in terrible remembrance.  
  
Clark jumped at the mention of their special time together. "How do you know it's Whitney, and not me?" he demanded, grabbing at her hands.  
  
Pulling away angrily, Lana glared down at him. "I hope you feel as low as you truly are, just as deeply-ground as Whitney, who convinced me to bind myself to him so he wouldn't lose me. I'm not stupid; I have a concept of time, Clark. I know it's him. And just so you know, I wouldn't be any happier if you were the father.  
  
"You try to control my decision, and make a big deal out of how you 'care' about me, but if you truly cared, you wouldn't have tried to move in when I have this . . . this monster consuming me!"  
  
As Lana fled blindly from the loft, Clark stared after her, dumbfounded. Not at her reaction, for it was just in his unjust action. For, he realized in alarm, everything she had said about him was true. 


	7. separation

CHAPTER 7: SEPARATION  
  
The outdoor magic of dusk permeated the cornfield into a plethora of dimness, consuming the field's majesty and offspring along with Lex's own shadow. He stood within the husky stalks which stood as if by enchantment, rooted in the ground by moral, and yet stretching inexplicably into the twilight. He felt at this moment as though he might be a stalk of corn, hidden halfway in darkness, but at the same time intermingled in a crowd of nothingness beneath the starry light.  
  
Here he was. And here he'd stay until he learned the truth of why, after he had shaved three times that very day, his follicles opened to the light air and produced a dreaded masterpiece.  
  
Submitting to the growing darkness, Lex dropped to his knees and ran the loamy soil through his fingers in dis-ease. Sitting here reminded him of that day - the day his father had turned from him and left him to bear baldness solely on his own - the day that Lex had begun to pursue his father's love and attention, to no avail.  
  
A sort of remorseful anger swept over him then. How could things have turned out this way? Meteors . . . And then he wept. He dropped his head into his hands and cried for his father's hatefulness, knowing that the guise of gaining a better relationship with Lex was only a cover for something else.  
  
After a few moments of turning the dust and dirt, flecked with bright green, in his fists to a thick mud soup, he allowed it to flow out, on to his head, his sprouting head . . .  
  
Or was it? His palms coming to rest on an unexpected smoothness, Lex broke into laughs of disbelief. Had he not just had hair in that spot a few moments ago? Surely this was a joke.or maybe he had just been pursuing answers in all the wrong places. Chloe had been right. His past was the key.  
  
Amid the corn he lay, gazing up into the bright sky. He need not have shielded his eyes.the stalks sheltered him.  
  
  
  
  
  
A kiss.  
  
Countless times had Chloe born witness to Clark's transparent quest for Lana through his momentous stares and thorough ignorance. But those incidents could always be interpreted in a safer manner, with as possible as unlikely explanations for the way Clark smiled at Lana and remained oblivious to Chloe's palpable emotions. But now she had seen something more. Something concrete. A kiss.  
  
It seemed quite strange to her that she had not known before.and while even her fleeting suspicions that Clark was the father of Lana's child had made her so angry, she had never truly believed that. Not the virtuous Clark. And so, just as she had for so long, she had remained blissfully ignorant of Clark's emotions, perhaps to the extent that Clark was of hers. But as the intelligent investigator she claimed herself to be, how could Chloe not have accepted the truth as it swam before her eyes all those months? That action certainly would have lessened the pain that she felt now that it had bitten her on the nose; it ached, it stung, it enveloped her in murky realization.  
  
And Lana, her friend. How naïve Chloe had been to believe that affable claim that Lana did not wish Clark to come between them. She would always seek only the truth for now on . . .  
  
At the appearance of her raven-haired former-companion rushing from the barn, Chloe stepped from the shadows of the trees, her face sunken with hurtful riverbeds of tears. "You whore. You're just what they've been calling you, you know. Whitney is so happy that you're having this baby, and yet behind his back you're seducing your next lover. I never would have expected such a base ploy from Lana Lang."  
  
"Whitney's happy!" Lana shouted. "But am I? Look at me, Chloe." She gestured to herself; her hair was mussed, her face streaked with heavy wetness. "Not only do I look a tremendous fright, but I have a tremendous fright growing inside of me! Whitney can keep his happiness, but I'll never understand how he could be so unfeeling. And as for your erroneous presumptions, Chloe, I was not seducing that bastard Clark. You can have him for all I care! And do you want to know what I care about? I care about no one, because no one cares about me! I think it's about time I extinguish the cause of this horror."  
  
Her voice breaking, she took off down the road.  
  
"Oh, what have I done?" Chloe moaned. It had been all Clark's doing; Lana had had no say in that kiss. "Lana, wait!" Distraught, she jogged after her friend.  
  
"'Bastard Clark'?" Pete mumbled. If only Lana knew the implications of that label, what with Clark's unknown origins.  
  
He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but.he had. Having been on his way to visit his best friend, he was held up by the shouting of Chloe and Lana. That wasn't something he could simply ignore; Chloe was one of his close friends, and he cared about Lana too.  
  
As he watched the increasingly dwindling figures of the two girls in the distance, he shrugged off an unsettled feeling. They would take care of each other. But meanwhile, if that was occurring outside of Clark's loft, how would Clark be faring?  
  
Suddenly concerned, Pete sprinted up the stairs to the loft, where Clark was sitting in a corner, arms crossed sullenly across his chest.  
  
"You okay, man?" Pete crossed over toward Clark and glanced down at him apprehensively. "What happened?"  
  
"Lana doesn't want me," Clark mumbled sadly. "I.it just always seemed like she did. After what happened between us, even though we decided to cool things down for awhile, I just thought she wouldn't resist me."  
  
Pete looked at his friend. "What happened? I don't understand. After all, it's not as if you're the baby's father."  
  
He had only been joking, but of course this threw an already frustrated Clark off balance. His face sunk into a muddle of tears as he explained the whole story among sorrowful sniffs and snorts, beginning with that one rainy summer night in the loft. "Pete, I thought it was my baby. I only found out about Whitney yesterday.and the whole time before that I thought he was mine. I thought Lana was mine."  
  
At once, Pete and Clark let out long breaths of air. Neither spoke for a long while, or what seemed to be along while. Clark was too emotionally spent for more words; Pete was too shocked, too stung.  
  
But, shock being more easily overcome than sobs and dishevelled feelings, Pete spoke up eventually. "I'll try not to be hurt that you didn't tell me about Lana before," he said, obviously fighting inwardly with himself. "And I'll try not to judge you for doing what you did. But here I learn that you moved in on her once again? Maybe you're not the person I thought you were Clark."  
  
Pete could read the remorse all over Clark's face, and bit his tongue before he spilled more regret upon his friend. But he couldn't help it! Never had he been so disgusted, not even when he had found out that this very same friend had been hiding the ultimate secret from him for years. This was so much worse, for now the qualities which Pete had expected to be coupled with those powers which Clark so humbly possessed had seemingly evaporated before his eyes.  
  
"Listen Clark, I know it's hard.but maybe you should stop looking at what you don't have and start concentrating on what you do have. You have a loving admirer even if you don't notice it. You have amazing abilities and up until today I've known you to be a wholly righteous individual. And yet you sit here and feel sorry for yourself. Why? Because your parents love you too much? Because you've been pursuing an empty dream of love for so long? Because you thought good had come of your bad decision? Or just because no one's paying attention to you anymore since everybody found out about Lana's problem? Correction: I'm paying attention to you. But I don't intend to any longer."  
  
Fuming, Pete took the stairs three at a time to get away as quickly as possible. He felt terrible saying such things when Clark had obviously lost so much of all that he had previously had.  
  
He left Clark sitting in an emotional stupor. All in one day he had lost the support of his parents, what he thought was his true love, one of his best friends.and on top of all that, he had lost his own breath of life: his child. 


	8. drought

CHAPTER 8: DROUGHT  
  
  
  
Lana took a deep breath as she entered her house. She had not done so since the day before yesterday, and she fretted about Nell's reaction to her disappearance. Though - surely the Kents had informed Nell as to Lana's location. They were sensible people.  
  
"Where have you been?" Nell asked tensely, rising at Lana's entrance. She and Dean had been seated on a sofa in the front room quite comfortably, and Lana suspected with annoyance that they had not been discussing Lana's whereabouts.  
  
"I was at Clark's," Lana said quickly. "I just needed some time to myself."  
  
"We knew you were at Clark's," Dean intercepted. "The Kents phoned us the other day to let us know you were safe. We mean where were you just now?"  
  
"Clark came to us, concerned about you, a few hours ago," Nell explained, ushering Lana into the room and seating her in a chair. "He said you two had had a fight, and that you were thinking of . . . "  
  
Tuning out, Lana's thoughts were turned towards the events of the evening. Chloe had caught up with her quickly, Lana being too exhausted to escape. The two of them breaking into parallel cries, they had unconditionally forgiven each other for whatever actions had previously preyed upon their dignities. Then in desperation, Lana had explained her plan, and, eager to support her friend, Chloe offered to accompany Lana to Metropolis.  
  
The clinic had been teeming outside with frantic protesters, and they tore at the two girls with outstretched fingers and brochures advocating the aspects of pro-life. It was nothing unusual for a big city, but nonetheless, the hostility had terrified Lana and provoked a feeling of helplessness. It was as though she had been tossed into a wood of haunted tree branches, clawing at her throat and threatening her with violent grasps should she continue on her path.  
  
Inside, the two had been plagued immediately with a contagion of sorrow and fear which emanated from each occupant. The wait had been long, though only a few minutes, and Chloe and Lana had sat in silence, each mind closing to the pain of the other. When finally she had been invited into a small, impersonal office, Lana's heart had pounded with a cold grip unknown to her before. But it had "to be done now, if it's to be done, because you're coming to the end of the first trimester. After that, we can do nothing to help you."  
  
The doctor's approach sickened Lana, and she had paled at his words. Help her . . . did he fancy himself to be helping her? All that could help her was nothing, for nothing was what her life had become, so strange and detached from all she knew and loved.  
  
"So you have to decide now," he had said. His voice was not harsh, it was sympathetic, but to Lana it had come across as severely rejecting. She had cried. And so she cried now.  
  
Nell and Dean stared at Lana expectantly. "Where were you?" Nell persisted.  
  
Lana closed her eyes so not to be forced to peer into the terrible streams of anticipation. "I was at an abortion clinic," she whispered. The experience came rushing back once more, bowling her over backwards in her mind. So much death . . .  
  
"What?!" All at once Nell and Dean seemed to physically attack her; Lana's head swam, and she felt an odd separation from herself. She peered down at the situation and breathed in all their hurtful words.  
  
"You should have come to talk to us first," Dean contended angrily. "That is hardly a decision you could make on your own."  
  
Nell broke into tears. "How could you do this, Lana? You tear yourself apart so that you can return to your old life, which was only good for complaints anyhow?" She began to sob.  
  
Wrapping an arm around his fiancée, Dean glared at the young girl. "Not only did you tear yourself apart in this, you're tearing us up as well. We would have helped you take care of it."  
  
The apparitional sensation Lana had been experiencing suddenly degenerated and she returned, emotionally frayed. "You would have cared for her," Lana agreed in a dangerously solemn tone. "But not for me. Will you care for her still? You don't seem to care for me, which is why I didn't come to you. Chloe helped me. She's my friend. And yet I stand here and you don't even listen to me . . . you don't care."  
  
"Well of course we care," Dean interjected. Nell was too stricken to answer.  
  
"You don't," Lana replied, her voice rising suddenly to a pitch of high aversion "I didn't get an abortion!" she shrieked. "I didn't, I couldn't, I love her; what do you know? And here you hang me before the trial, before my apology! I . . . " Swooning, Lana collapsed from her chair and sprawled on the floor, her hair spewed in all directions. "This is what you should do . . . " she murmured before losing all consciousness.  
  
Nell screamed.  
  
  
  
The room was lit only dimly, natch to the melancholy which infected the air.  
  
Lana lay quietly in a blank hospital bed, breathing deeply, chasing dreams in a disturbed slumber. Whitney sat over her, shaking, not calmed by his mother's careful hands which, upon his shoulders, endeavoured to soothe him.  
  
Nell, nearby, stared at her young niece solemnly from her place close against Dean, but could not look long, for she felt at fault. She was at fault. In her accusations and desperation she had driven Lana to a form of death in life so mournful that now she was to suffer eternally at the hands of all.  
  
All of Chloe, Clark, and Pete could not help but feel slightly out of place in this doleful setting, and yet they belonged just as well. Twisted with regret at all their previous proceedings, they stared at the floor and awaited anxiously Lana's awakening.  
  
So self-contained were the room's occupants that none actually did acknowledge the gentle fluttering of her eyes. Whitney, a few inches from her face, was the first to take notice and reaction. "Lana, I'm so sorry," he lamented. "Can you ever forgive me?"  
  
A chorus of apologies echoed from all corners of the room, and Lana peered about, almost frightened by the terrific amount of repentance and traces of grace. She took Whitney's hand in hers to calm him. "Don't worry," she whispered intensely. "I'm to be faulted as well. Isn't it strange that a beautiful acquirement of love worked to both create and destroy human life, and in the process bring out the worst in all of us?" 


End file.
